Harry Potter and the Son of the Il Khağan
by R.C.C
Summary: Europe is overrun by Death Eaters and most of the political bodies are in shambles.  A sole young man finds himself in a situation he never dreamed possible and steps up to claim a blood right to an empire in a world at war. Takes place after book 5.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

The wizarding world is at war and has plunged into chaos. With indisputable evidence of the Dark Lord's return, events have taken a dark turn for the worst. The Ministry for Magic of Great Britain headed by Cornelius Fudge is not at a loss for words, only actions. But while England takes baby steps in an attempt to secure its own safety, Voldemort has wider ambitions.

In Eastern Europe, pure-bloods outnumber all non-pure-blooded, or otherwise imperfect magical persons nine to one and magical persons outnumber muggles in an outstanding ninety to one. The inbred, reclusive families harbor no small amount of hate towards the superstitious muggles, still known to have a witch hunt now and then.

The lonely Eastern Auror has his work cut out for him.

With the West focused on insurgents within their own borders, the East is left to fend for itself, for better or for worse. But the few aurors and imperfects as they are called, aren't about to go down without a fight. They cling to their newfound leader: a man with blood ties to an ancient and powerful ruling family. As they reinstate this monarchy, outsiders can't help but wonder if he only has the best for the East in mind, or if he wishes to restore the glory of the Eastern Empires of old and become an entirely new Dark Lord?

**Author's Note: **Does this sound interesting to anyone? I have a pretty good idea of where it will go, but I would like to know if anyone finds the idea interesting. (Position of Beta Reader is open, if anyone would like it, by the way) Thank you for reading this very short page!


	2. Leveling and Letters

**Disclaimer:**

Harry Potter, and all things, places or otherwise physical or non-physical things I mention are property of J. K. Rowling. I mean no harm in uploading this, only to have a little fun taking the characters in a very different direction from where they were taken in Book 6 and probably Book 7.

**Review Replies:**

Plue: Thanks so much for your review! It actually helped me find the drive to flesh out this first chapter, which is usually the hardest one for me. Hear that people? Reviews make me write! I only hope you like where I'm going with this. Thanks again. : )

_**Leveling and Letters**  
_

Harry was as of yet unimpressed with the Ministry, he reminded himself as he sat with arms folded in a corner of the living room at number 12 Grimmauld Place. The summer had crept by painfully slow following that eventful night at the Department of Mysteries and only a few days ago did anyone contact Harry after he was sent back to Privet Drive. And even then, all he got was a curt letter informing him that Mr. Weasley was going to floo to Privet Drive to pick him up and bring him back to Headquarters. Why Harry was suddenly brought back into the wizarding world after what seemed like a month and a half of exile was beyond him, but he wasn't about to open up his mouth and ruin it.

"Hey Harry," a voice jerked him out of his stewing and he looked up from where he had been staring at the floor tiles to see Ginny approaching him. "How's it going?" she asked once she neared him. He shrugged and looked away, but unlike both Hermione and Ron, that didn't seem to be enough for Ginny. She shifted on her feet and crossed her arms with a huff, which threw him off. Everyone else had mostly left him alone, treating him as if he might break if they so much as uttered a single touchy syllable. Ginny didn't seem to be moving. "Listen, you can't just sit here and mope around all day, Harry," she spoke in a slightly agitated voice. What? Why would _she _be agitated? Harry was the one whose single remaining family had just been murdered a month and a half ago; Harry was the one who the Ministry had attacked; Harry was the one who everyone treated differently. "I know you're upset," she said, and Harry rolled his eyes. He'd heard that line so many times the past few weeks he could've bought a new racing broom if he had been paid each time.

"Harry!" she said in almost a shriek that made him jump and turn to face her. He blinked in astonishment to see tears about to fall from her eyes, but she didn't look sad at all. Her face was flushed and he fists clenched. He instinctively wanted to edge backwards in his chair, fearing she might punch him. "Don't keep writing us off like that! You think we don't see it when you roll your eyes? That it doesn't hurt us when you shut us out? I might be the only one who's plucked up enough courage to come tell you what a brat you've been, but I'm not the only one thinking it." All those words seemed to just tumble out of her mouth in a giant tidal wave, and she had to take a few deep breaths after finishing. Harry felt as if he'd just fallen for the Wronski Feint and plowed into the ground at full speed.

"So I'm a brat then?" he asked with cold venom dripping from his voice as he trained his seething glare on her flushed face. Now he saw her roll her eyes.

"Don't put this on me," she laughed mercilessly, returning her own gaze to his. "What I meant is you've been acting downright lofty. It's true, no one has had the exact same experiences as you, but we're all here for you, and you don't seem to want us. That's not going to get you anywhere, Harry. Why don't you stop feeling sorry for yourself and get up and help fight?"

"I've tried helping, Ginny!" Harry exclaimed as he stood up. "I tried getting people to listen; I tried preparing you guys and look where it got me. The Ministry tried to get me expelled last year, we got caught and they tried to put Dumbledore in Azkaban, and when I tried to save Sirius he died, Ginny, he died!" Harry finished his own tirade and searched the red head's face for a reaction. She seemed a little less mad now, but she still stared at him, unfazed.

"You saved me Harry, in the Chamber of Secrets. Or have you forgotten that already?" she asked in almost a whisper. The sudden change in her voice made something in Harry stop and really look at her, but she just shook her head, and her long red hair obscured her eyes for a second. When he could see her face again, it was still flushed, but serious. "Listen, I'm sorry. I know you've had more pain than probably anybody I know, but… that doesn't mean you should stop trying to do what's right," Ginny spoke in a quieter voice, one more befitting to the girl that Harry remembered from his second year. Harry sighed and looked around uneasily. Some small part of him told him that she was right, but a larger part of him just didn't care anymore. Something about the fact that it was Ginny standing in front of him and not Ron or Hermione struck him, but he didn't pursue that thought any farther as he shook his head.

"What can we do? No one tells us "kids" anything anyway," he said with a resigned sigh. Ginny looked very surprised at that response, which made Harry raise an eyebrow in response. What had he said? Surely it wasn't his observation that the members of the Order were being secretive, so that left his rather simple question… had he really been that bad that she was surprised he offered to do something? Anything?

"Well, it's not like we'll be out hunting Voldemort but Dumbledore wants to send owls to all the Ministries, you know, to see how they're going to deal with Voldemort being back."

"That's it?" Harry asked incredulously but Ginny simply put her hands on her hips.

"It's more than you were doing just now," she replied curtly in a tone of voice oddly reminiscent of her mother. She seemed to recognize that too, for she broke into a sort of strangled smile soon after, and Harry couldn't help but follow suit. "Come on, let's go," she said with a noticeably larger amount of ease as she beckoned to him and turned around to go down the hall to the room used mainly by the Order.

Harry followed Ginny down the hall and into the dining room, and he had to admit, he was surprised at what he saw. Hermione sat at the table with an enormously long piece of parchment draped in front of her; it was so long it actually extended in folds in front of her, onto and across her lap, and down to the floor where it finally ended. She was nibbling on one end of a quill as her eyes seemed to bore a whole in the parchment. Ron was up and about, bringing in and stacking rather fancy pieces of parchment and envelopes on the dinner table; he gave a nod when he saw Harry follow Ginny inside.

"Hey Harry, here to join the fun?" Ron called, his voice a bit strained, whether it was caused by the stacks of envelopes or Harry's sudden appearance, Harry wasn't so sure, but either way, Ron's greeting caused Hermione to look up. Her face broke out into a giant smile when she saw him and she laughed a little nervously, shuffling the parchment in front of her.

"There's certainly lots to do," she started and Ginny made her way around the table to stand directly across from Hermione. Hermione glanced at the stacks of parchment and envelopes Ron brought in, and Harry could almost see her tallying them in her head. "I think Ron's brought in all the supplies we'll need to finish up; we're already on the M section…"

"M section?" Harry echoed as he closed in and leaned over the back of Hermione's chair, looking at the enormously long parchment in front of her.

"Mhm, of countries. Ron, Ginny and I have been working on these all day and have a pretty good system working. We need to send out copies of this," she replied distractedly as she held up a well worn piece of parchment that looked like it had been on the blunt end of a duplicating spell once too many times, "to all the Ministries for Magic and otherwise relevant persons in power…" she trailed off, but quickly turned around in her chair to look at Harry. "Did you know there are more than 200 ministries out there?" she asked so quickly Harry didn't have time to contemplate a simple yes or no answer before she spun back around and went back to perusing the list. Harry could now see that the said parchment was, in fact, a list of countries, and their corresponding Ministers or, in some cases, rulers apparently, for next to more than one of the countries was the person called something other than "minister."

"Well, what am I supposed to do now?" Ron asked, though he was looking at Harry and rolling his eyes, for obviously Hermione was paying little attention to anything other than the list in front of her.

"Oh, well, why don't you get to copying this letter," she instructed and handed him the worn piece of parchment she had shown to Harry. "I'll keep addressing the envelopes," she muttered more to herself as she summoned the stack of envelopes closer with her wand. Harry saw Ron watch this in disbelief before rolling his eyes and giving a resigned sigh. "And why don't one of you two stick the letters in the envelopes and the other send them?" she spoke almost to herself; Ginny seemed alright with that instruction, and she leaned her hip on the dining table waiting for the first envelope, but Harry only looked around.

"Hang on, how are we supposed to send the letters? Unless you three have been hiding over 200 owls somewhere around here, I haven't a clue as to how to send the letters," he asked and folded his arms across his chest.

"Oh, right!" Hermione exclaimed and she once again whipped around in her chair; Harry began to wonder how she didn't get whiplash. "You'll see on the mantle above the fireplace over there are two pots. One is of ordinary floo powder, the next is of a bright red powder, enver powder; just sprinkle a little on the envelope and throw it into the flames and it should go to the fireplace closest to the recipient," she explained with a nod and a smile before going back to looking at the parchment. She soon put it down and took one of the envelopes and muttered a charm, and Harry watched as fluid black letters began to seemingly write themselves on the face of the envelope. This one was going to the Minister of Macedonia. Harry shrugged and he looked at Ginny to gave a smirk and a roll of her eyes.

"It's something," she muttered as she took the now addressed envelope from Hermione and picked up a single sheet of parchment from the stack of copies Ron was making. With a flick of her wand too, she folded the letter, inserted it into and sealed the envelope. She held it out to Harry with a bored sigh. Harry couldn't help but shake his head as he took the envelope and went over to the fireplace, beginning to wonder if there wasn't some charm he could use to send the letters.

He took a pinch of the red dust and plopped it on the face of the letter. He vaguely wondered if it would stain. If it did, half the address was obscured now. He raised his eyebrows vaguely in a devil-may-care fashion, and tossed the letter into the waiting fireplace. The flames leapt up as if he had just thrown in a bottle of alcohol and caused him to jump back, giving an involuntary yelp of surprise. Ginny giggled and Ron snorted in a vain attempt to staunch his own chuckle and Harry glanced back at them momentarily.

"Oh stuff it," he countered, but this only caused the laughter to increase as the tension that had been in the room seemed to lift away with the smoke from the flames. He returned his gaze to the fire which simmered mutely in front of him. "You knew it was going to do that, didn't you two?" he asked as he returned to where Ginny was sitting on the table, only to get the second envelope from her outstretched hand.

"Mm, vaguely," Ginny conceded with a smirk as he reached for another pinch of powder and sent the second envelope.

"We did send out what must've been about a hundred of those already," Ron added as he went to lay another newly copied piece of parchment on the stack, only to have it practically taken out of his hand by Ginny's charm to stuff it into an envelope.

"Right," Harry muttered as he mailed the third of many to come.

After what seemed like hours of walking back and forth between the dinner table and the fireplace, Harry was almost sure he had about worn a track in the floor. This time as he reached for the pinch of enver powder the flames rose up prematurely and he stumbled backwards with a shout as the flames turned bright red, as if he had just sent 10 envelopes at the same time.

"What's happening?" Ginny gasped as she slid off the table and whipped out her wand, pointing it at the fireplace. Both Hermione and Ron did the same, as he rounded the edge of the table and she stood up from her chair. Harry scuttled backwards a bit before managing to get to his feet, and pulling out his own wand as well.

"Wait a second, I think we're getting a reply," Hermione stated as she took a few steps towards the fierce flames. And right enough, a plain envelope made of an aged, almost canvas-like parchment, burst out of the flames and floated into her waiting hand. The red flames died down and the embers crackled innocently as Hermione turned the envelope over in her hands. _TO THE ORDER _was all that was written on the front. Hermione turned over the envelope again and narrowed her eyes as she ran her thumb over the strange two headed dragon seal. "Odd…" she muttered, as the other three crowded around her to get a look at the letter.

"Well, who's it from?" Ron asked expectantly and Harry peered over Hermione's shoulder. Hermione shook her head.

"It doesn't say, but… this looks like the Durmstrang seal," she observed and moved her hand away so the others could see the two headed dragon.

"I thought it was a two headed bird," Ginny observed, shuffling to get a closer look and Hermione nodded.

"I know, but doesn't it look too similar? I mean, they're kind of… bird-like dragons aren't they?" Hermione replied looking at the other girl hopefully. Ginny just shrugged.

"Why would Durmstrang be enverring the Order?" Harry wondered aloud and noticed Ron was pointedly remaining silent. Harry only shook his head, whereas neither Hermione nor Ginny seemed to notice.

"Go on, open it," Ginny prodded, and Hermione seemed truly taken aback.

"But we're not members of the Order," she protested, and Ginny only smirked and reached for the letter. Hermione tugged it away however.

"But we're the ones sending out the letters. Who knows, maybe somebody in the faculty at Durmstrang is also involved in one of the ministries? After all, we don't know who's the new Headmaster over there do we?" Ginny argued and Hermione seemed vaguely convinced.

"And then again maybe this person at Durmstrang is a Death Eater and has hexed this to blow up when opened, or worse," Ron piped up angrily, causing all three in the room to look at him, but he didn't seem bothered by the stares.

"Ron," Hermione sighed. "Viktor said there weren't any other Death Eaters or former Death Eaters in the Durmstrang's faculty," she argued and Ron held up his hands.

"Who ever said anything about Viktor? I'm just saying there could be Death Eaters who could get the Durmstrang seal and use it to lull us into a false sense of familiarity then kick us right when…" Ron was cut off mid-tirade by an agitated Hermione.

"Envers don't work that way Ronald. It is impossible to send an enver with malicious intent. The charm just won't work that way. It'll just come right back to you."

"Well, who's to say You-Know-Who hasn't found a way to counteract that, huh?" Ron retorted and Hermione opened her mouth to reply but was promptly cut off as the envelope was snatched from her hands. Ginny hopped a few paces away until she was on the other side of the table, and tore open the envelope. The torn envelope dropped to the table top lamely, and did absolutely nothing spectacular and Ginny only stared at Ron with one eyebrow arched and a smirk plastered on her lips.

"Alright, alright, no need to get cocky," Ron muttered, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"What's it say?" Harry called across the table, leaning on the wood with both hands. He had to admit he was curious. He wondered if the Ministries of other countries were as oblivious and pig-headed as his own Ministry.

"Hang on, it's in some chicken scratch writing…" Ginny laughed as she squinted and brought the oddly crisp and pristine sheet of parchment up closer to her face.

_"To the REPRESENTATIVE of the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX: _I swear I'm reading it right. He capitalized certain words for emphasis, so I'm emphasizing," Ginny stated mock-defensively at the odd looks the others were giving her when she put a certain extra amount of air behind the capitalized words.

_"DO NOT send any more envers to Minister Oblansk. He has been missing for a month, and his envers go to the old ministry building, which is currently held by DEATH EATERS. _Oh that's not good," she said in a side note.

_"Please address all future envers or other methods of communication to "MIR KHANZADA." _I have no clue if I pronounced that right, anyway, um; _I have enclosed his response to your previous enver._

_"Sincerely,_

_"GENERAL VULCHANOV. _Geez, he certainly liked writing in big letters…" Ginny muttered as she reached for the enveloped. "Now where's that _enclosed response_?" Ginny said with an air of mocking pomposity she seemed to have gotten from the letter. "Ah, here it is," she exclaimed as she pulled a second, smaller piece of paper out of the envelope. This piece of paper however matched the envelope and appeared quite old, complete with worn edges and a weak cloth like composition that forced Ginny to hold it from the two top corners and let it hand horizontally so she could read it that way.

"_Representative of the Order;_ oh good he writes like a normal person," Ginny commented and Harry head Hermione take in a deep, impatient breath, although Ron wasn't quite so discrete.

"Quit the commentary, Gin. Would you hurry up and read it already?" he broke out and Ginny looked at him over the piece of dilapidated paper.

"All right, all right, keep your shirt on… where was I? Ah right, the _very beginning,_" she said dryly.

"_Representative of the Order, _

_"I am sorry to say that Mr. Oblansk is dead; it is far worse in Bulgaria than we are lead to believe it is in your own country. The Bulgarian Ministry is now in the hands of Death Eaters, and is pressuring other nearby ministries, namely, Romania, Greece, and Turkey, to pledge their support, under threat of death. _

_"However, we, meaning myself and a large group of followers, are trying to prevent that. We right now have many anti-You-Know-Who leaders in our possession and are doing our best to keep them safe. _

_"We are exterminating all Death Eaters we can find…" _

"Exterminating? Does he mean to say they're killing _all _Death Eaters they run into?" Hermione interrupted, and Ginny shrugged. Harry seemed a bit perturbed, thought not by the letter, more so by Hermione.

"What's wrong with that? They're _Death Eaters_," he spat bitterly as he glanced at the shocked Hermione. Harry wasn't sure if he cared how she looked at him however. In his experience, Death Eater's deserved what they got. Even former Death Eaters were absolute louts in his opinion. After all, wasn't everything bad that had happened in his life somehow influence by a Death Eater? If not the Voldemort himself.

"They're still people Harry. They deserve the_ face_ of a _trial_ at least," she countered emphatically but Ginny just cleared her throat and went on, breaking up the rising tension.

_"We hope things are going as well in your country as they appear to be. I am glad to know that your Ministry has finally realized what has always been right in front of them. Know that you have our support._

_"Take care,_

_"KHAGAN_

_"Mir Khanzada & Gur Khan." _Ginny finished reading the fabric-like letter, and laid it down on the table in front of her before looking up. "I think we should give this to somebody who'll know how to deal with it," she said flatly and Harry couldn't help but agree, eager to get out of that single stinking room and do something other than send letters through the fireplace

**Author's Note:**

Well, the first chapter is up. Opinions? Anyone? And I'm still looking for a beta reader. If you can tell, this is only written and edited by myself. And boy do I hate how most of the formatting disappears when I upload chapters here...

Sorry if you don't like the way I've done Harry or Ginny, or any of the other characters… I never meant to start out with so much of Harry and Ginny; it just sort of happened. And this story takes place BEFORE Harry and Ginny got together, so they really don't have much of a relationship here. I just thought that she had the most distance where she felt she would be able to go up to Harry and kick his lazy butt into gear. : )

Thanks for reading, and I hope you come back for the next chapter! (Which will hopefully be up in another two or three weeks, yes, I'm sorry it's taking so long. I'm going on vacation away from the internet).

Don't forget: reviews make me write more:D


	3. The Hand of Sorrow

**Disclaimer:**

Harry Potter, and all things, places, or otherwise physical or non-physical things I mention are property of J. K. Rowling. I mean no harm in uploading this, only to have a little fun taking the characters in a very different direction from where they were taken in Book 6 and Book 7.

P.S. This is a Teen rated fiction for language and content. Hopefully, I don't need to up the rating, but I've not been holding back. Sorry if I offend anybody.

**Review Replies:**

Gabbers: Thank you so much for your review. And hopefully this chapter has peaked your curiosity a bit more.

**_The Hand of Sorrow_**

Elsewhere, a small group of wizards sat outside the entrance to the Bulgarian Ministry for Magic, situated high in the Rila mountain range. Their breath came out in puffs of white mist that floated and evaporated into humid air around them. Cold rain fell upon them, and each pulled his cloak tighter around him in an attempt to keep out the damp forty eight degree weather.

"Damn it, what did we do to pull guard duty?" one growled and spat on the ground angrily.

"Keep quiet, Raev," another muttered from his place leaning against the giant wooden doors.

"What? Like sitting there dumbly will make it any warmer?" Raev turned to the other wizard who only sighed.

"It's not _that _cold," one of the others replied, quite bored.

"No but it will keep _some_ of us sane longer," the one leaning against the door, Lechkov added.

"It's the bloody summer, and it's what? Six, eight degrees out here?" Raev whined, shuffling on his feet and flapping his hands inside the folds of his cloak.

"More like fourteen, little boy," Lechkov corrected with a sigh. Raev only bobbed his masked head, and more puffs of white air blew through the mouth of his mask.

"Nah ah, can't be; it's gotta be colder," he moaned, causing the other few wizards to all move uncomfortably.

"Bitching about the cold isn't going to make it any warmer."

"No, but it makes me feel better," Raev barked back, and the last wizard to speak only shrugged it off, saying bitterly:

"Whatever makes you feel better then."

"Listen, it could be worse," another of the skeleton masked wizards stated as he looked around at the alpine landscape outside the Ministry.

"Yea? How?" Raev asked, almost as if he was curious at what they could come up with.

"We could be the ones hunting the Red Raptors," Lechkov noted and all of the Death Eaters bowed out with few whistles and sounds of acknowledgement.

"Indeed, I wouldn't want to be doing that," one of them agreed and Raev's masked head went from looking at Lechkov, to the others and back.

"Why not? I think it'd be better hunting those blood traitor sons of bitches than sitting here on our freezing hands," Raev argued as he crossed his arms, partially portraying his obstinacy, but mostly because of the fact he was freezing. The other Death Eaters had to look at each other for a few moments, as if confirming what they had just heard. Then they broke out in laughter.

"Where have you been, boy?" one asked in between peels of a deep throated chuckle.

"Those Red Raptors are animals," another added, and the rest nodded in assent, some still finishing laughing.

"If they so much as suspect they see one of us, KA-POW! Avada Kedavra that blasted space!" the first described, waving his hands and miming the action.

"And if they catch you alive," Lechkov droned, his voice trailing off. "Sure they use the Cruciatus, who doesn't? But no, they use Muggle forms of torture too. Cut off limbs, gouge out eyes, pull out tongues…"

"And they don't Avada Kedavra you if they've got you at their mercy, no, they do it the hard way," Todorov, the one with the throaty chuckle started.

"Beheading, bleeding, hanging…"

"I heard they even took a page out of old Vlad Dracul's book and skewer people on spikes," Lechkov finished and the others seemed finished; an eerie silence settled upon the group of Death Eaters.

"Well, you can't believe all you hear," Raev stuttered out as he pulled his cloak closer around his head. "After all, can't you see what they're trying to do? I bet they just put out those rumors to scare us. They should fear us! Not the other way around," he stated with a resolute nod, seeming to have regained his arrogant confidence.

"Yea?" Lechkov asked and let out a deep breath, the wisps of air curling out from underneath his hood. "Well one thing I do know: they're led by the direct descendent of the Dragon Khan, _Khagan_," he said in almost a whisper, forcing Raev to lean forwards to hear.

"…the descendent of the Dragon Khan? Who the hell is that?" Raev asked with more than a hint of disbelief in his voice. The others looked at him as if he'd sprouted another head.

"Where the hell are you from boy?" Todorov wondered in amazement. "Didn't you go to school or anything? Take an ancient history class ever?"

"I was home schooled thank you very much!" Raev countered and puffed up his chest. The others just shook their heads and muttered.

"Well, you're parents did a bang up job, didn't they? One of those western sympathizers? Think the western way of teaching is _the _way to teach? Well, they left out some pretty damn important parts then!" Todorov fumed, flinging his fist in the air as if he could punch the offenders. "The sons of the Il-Khağan as they're called can trace their blood all the way back to the 3rd century and can claim to having a hand in the shaping of most of Europe as we know it. Somewhere along the line, one of their ancestors married with a dragon, and ever since, the family has had powers other wizards can't even imagine. Magical skin, night vision, murderous breath… and those are only the powers outsiders know about!" Todorov explained, running out of breath as his rant went on.

"One of the oldest the bloodlines in all the world, and he's leading the aurors against us. That man should be on our side…" Todorov said with a sigh. "But instead we have to fear his dragon breath and primal thirst for blood," he added with a heavy sense of disdain. Raev shook his head.

"Hang on, you expect me to believe _that_? That there's a family over 1600 years old that can trace itself, _and _that claims to be part dragon? That's _impossible_! Have you ever even _seen _a dragon? That's not possible, I tell you!" Raev argued with a look of disgust blatant on his face.

"Ancient stories tell of dragons taking the forms of other animals, even humans to interact with the world in a more… down to earth manner. They're talked about as sentient beings, smarter than most humans! It's possible that there were dragons back then of an entirely different category. There's enough credibility to their claims to believe them. They've got ancient magic no one understands. Like how they've managed to keep their castle secreted away from everyone else. People have searched and searched. Hounded suspected members of the family, but no one's found the castle. Where do you think the Red Raptors are hiding out? Khan Castle, where we can't touch them, because we can't find it!" Todorov continued in a strained voice, obviously his patience wearing thin as he spoke as if to a child.

"Fine, fine, so who the hell is it anyway?" Raev conceded with a sigh. That quieted the other Death Eaters and their scoffing at him, and they glanced at each other, with only their visible eyes darting from one another.

"No one… knows for sure…" Todorov muttered. "The family went into hiding some couple hundred years ago, and it's said that they've returned to the public, but just haven't claimed their ancestry openly. We have our suspects, but it doesn't really mater."

"What really matters is that the Red Raptors and this kid that says he's a son of the Il-Khağan are a real threat," Lechkov spoke pointedly at Raev, shaking his head for emphasis. "You see one of them, you apparate as far away as possible, then back home. Don't go it alone. It's not worth it with them," Lechkov warned, waggling his finger. Todorov stuck his hand back within the folds of his own robe and went back to scouring the surroundings as he had been since they were stationed out front. Lechkov once again for emphasis nodded as he leaned back against the door once again.

"Right," Raev replied quietly, having been properly scolded. "…I still think it'd be more exciting though," he added and all of his companions sighed, grunted or shook their heads in disbelief.

"Sure, after all, there is no greater adventure than death itself, yes?" Lechkov remarked, his words a cutting sarcastic whip. "Get to watching the horizon, boy, before we decide to _hand you over_ to the Red Raptors," he warned, taking his hand and forcibly turning the other Death Eater around to face the mountainous landscape in front of him.

"I can't believe this kid…" Todorov muttered under his breath to Lechkov, who was rummaging around in his cloak for something.

"I can. He's never seen the dynasty's castle," Lechkov noted. "Aha," he breathed as he pulled out a bottle from a secret pocket in his cloak.

"What's that? Oh, is that vodka? You best share unless you want to get reported," Todorov laughed as he spoke, and the other Death Eaters visibly perked up at the name of the drink.

"Do not worry, it's a big enough bottle," he said holding up the old, unmarked bottle for all to see. But he withdrew it as Raev turned around. "Not for you. Turn back around. I won't support under age drinking," Lechkov stated firmly and the other Death Eaters chuckled as the youngest of the group turned back around and hunched over, watching the approach to the Ministry. The sloping ascent to where they now stood was barren, except for grasses and bush, for they were already above the tree line. He crossed his arms and ducked down, huddling against his legs.

"Oh come on, it's not _that cold_," Todorov muttered more to Lechkov and himself than Raev, who ignored it anyway and rested his chin on his knees. The mask pulled and itched something awful in this position, but he didn't move, as his eyes roved over the countryside below them. Something moved along the edge of his range of vision, but he blinked and it was gone. He straightened up a bit, putting his knees forwards on the ground and reaching up with one hand to reposition his mask and rub his eyes, but he didn't see anything again. He turned around to glance at the Death Eaters behind him, but all of them were gathered around Lechkov and his popular bottle. When Raev returned his gaze forwards, he knew he saw something in the distance. Something bright red.

"Whoa!" he breathed and scurried to his feet, withdrawing his wand.

"What are you doing, Raev?" Lechkov called from behind the young Death Eater, who only mutely motioned them forwards.

"A wizard – in red!" was all he was able to muster. The other Death Eaters looked at each other, and laughed.

"What? You trying to get us back for scaring you earlier? Well, it won't work," one of the masked men laughed, his speech already a bit slurred. Lechkov and Todorov glanced at the man in contempt. Todorov moved from his spot in the huddle to Raev's side and put a hand on his brow, shielding his eyes from the sparse rain drops and minimal sunlight.

"Where?" he asked, although his tone was disbelieving. Raev pointed, but realized that was pointless and probably not the best idea.

"Right smack dab in front of me, Todorov. In between those two bushes," Raev tried to describe and Todorov wiggled next to him, trying to catch a glimpse of the tell-tale stark robe. When the older wizard froze in place, the others did as well, sobering quickly.

"I see him. What's one bloody Red Raptor doing coming here?" Todorov whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. The other Death Eaters came up alongside Todorov and Raev, each lifting their chins or shielding their eyes, squinting to see the red figure down the slope.

"Just one? I've never heard of them traveling solo," one of the Death Eaters spoke in disbelief. Todorov dropped his hand and took out his wand as well.

"Well what the hell do we have people hunting these guys for, when one's just been stupid enough to pop up-" he didn't finish his sentence for he lost all control of his facial muscles as his jaw dropped as he watched the shape robed in red contort and grow a good foot wider and a foot and a half taller. Lechkov grabbed Raev's arms and pulled him back.

"Go inside! Get everybody you can; it's the Khagan! The Khagan's here!" Lechkov exclaimed in hushed tones, as if the far away figure could hear them, and threw the youngest of the Death Eater's back towards the door. Raev stumbled and fumblingly grabbed the heavy brass knocker, and made several loud beats before the large door began to creak open. He slid inside the door before the gap was too large and shut it behind him.

"It can't be…" Todorov breathed as he and the three other Death Eaters lined up, each with their own wand out and watching the red robed wizard move slowly up the slope.

"What in Merlin's name is he doing here?" one of the others asked in an echo of a voice. Lechkov only nodded and stared in wonderment as the hulking wizard ascended towards them. He didn't have long to look however, as a sudden sharp pain tore through his back and he fell forwards with a silent scream. He didn't see the two Death Eaters beside him fall similarly, each struck by a single green bolt of lightning. Todorov dodged, and spun around; the crackling green killing curse screaming over his head and tearing his hood back to reveal his peppered hair. Coming out from behind the mountaintop was a whole group of wizards robed in red riding sleek racing brooms. Each Red Raptor had a wand drawn and aimed at Todorov's chest, and each muttered the same words, _avada kedavra, _and all Todorov could think of was how startlingly bright the crimson robes were against the grey sky behind them, as he fell backwards down the mountainside.

The last of the Death Eaters guarding the entrance tumbled down the mountainside, but the air squadron failed to hit him with a single curse. While four out of five would be acceptable at other times, Khagan had a hunch it was the element of surprise that had allowed the wizards in the air the quick and efficient strike. He made a mental note on going over moving targets again. Though now he could see why they refrained, for the last Death Eater was rolling down the slope directly towards him. They must have feared they would miss and hit him instead of the Death Eater. Commendable, but too cautious, in his opinion. Khagan took a few more steady steps up the incline, and put out his left foot just in time to stop the quickly spinning Death Eater. For a moment, the descendent of the Khan thought the Death Eater would spew right there in his mask, but as the man's head swayed, his eyes focused on the figure towering above him. Nothing could describe the look that crossed that man's eyes, and just his eyes, the rest of his face being obscured by the mask, conveyed such fear that it brought a certain heaviness even to the Mir Khanzada's heart. He quickly willed those hesitations away however, and slowly and deliberately brought out his wand.

_"Avada kedavra," _came the deep, brooding voice from the demon-like, scaled visage with glinting red eyes that looked down almost soullessly upon the last of the five Death Eaters out front. Khagan watched the Death Eater stiffen underneath his boot, then stepped aside and let the dead Death Eater start rolling down the slope once again. Looking back up to the entranceway he could see the doors opening and his air squadron darted about like wasps. Soon enough curses were being thrown through the tiny opening even as it was widening. Khagan watched, now running up the incline, as one of his red robed wizards was struck by a curse, and fell off his broom, blood seeping through the heavy red robes at his abdomen. Khagan stopped, probably about ten feet from the entrance, although still considerably far below in altitude, and took a deep breath; he started a long bellow, an almost inhuman yell tinged with the vocal chords of a reptile that reverberated through the valley below and made the very door to the ministry building shake. That got their attention.

A Death Eater ran out of the building and came within sight of the dragon-man. He didn't have time to point though, as he was quickly hit from three sides by killing curses. More followed however, leaving the shelter of the building to take aim at the single man on the ground. As several bolts of magic crackled their way towards Khagan, he whipped his left had out from underneath his bulky robes and brought up a thick shield, which he held up to conceal his face and torso. The curses collided with the shield, sizzled and disappeared, absorbed into the very being of the shield, for it was made of layered dragon scales, more resistant to magic than any other natural or man-made material. Illegal too. But the descendent of the Khan didn't worry about that as he barreled the last few feet and bowled over the Death Eaters near the entrance. Stomping down on throats and growling hexes he held up his shield so its iridescent scales caught what little light there was, and he gave another yell. This time, several dozen red robed wizards on racing brooms emerged from the tree line below and sped up the mountainside, quickly passing Khagan on either side, and blazed into the ministry building.

"Find Dimitrof! Let no one slow you down or block your path!" he roared as they whipped by him, causing his own robes to flutter about wildly in the crosswind. The original squadron that had flown over the building came up behind Khagan, and one presented him with his own ebony lacquered racing broom. Khagan waved the Red Raptor away as he slid his shield around to his back, and took the broom by the handle with his free left hand and mounted it, always keeping his wand out at the ready. Only split seconds after mounting, did he start moving forwards, going from motionless to blindingly fast in the blink of an eye with trained precision.

Khagan navigated through the tunnel-like hallways of the Bulgarian Ministry, dodging the hexes and curses being thrown at Death Eaters and Red Raptors alike without hesitation, and with a practiced ease. He, flanked by the original air squadron, tore through the hallways, passing many of the other Red Raptors who had entered before them and dismounted to engage the dug in Death Eaters. They rounded a corner at break neck speeds and Khagan had to maneuver and boot a Death Eater aside to avoid a collision as they neared entered the straightaway towards the main chamber of the ministry. The doors were shut tight, but Khagan raised his wand, and those behind him followed suit.

"_Reducto_," he and the dozen wizards behind him commanded and the magic was so heavy in the air for a moment he could feel it in little sparks on his slightly scaled skin. Then the door visibly shrank, almost as if it was being pulled inwards, and then it rapidly returned to its normal size and shattered into a thousand pieces of splintered wood. The Red Raptors already on the ground near the door rushed in, but Khagan was right on their heels, moving faster than the wind on his racing broom. He circled the main audience chamber near the ceiling and looked down at those inside. Many were members of the Ministry, and many were Death Eaters. Some were both. Khagan almost pitied them as they threw down their wands and shot up their hands in response to the wave of red into the room.

Khagan landed with his back to the open door and facing the ministry officials and Death Eaters. He dismounted and took a few steps away from the line of aurors, always with his wand at the ready, holding it low in his right hand. With his other hand he reached up and flicked back his hood, releasing the strap that held it in place. A few of the officials shrank back, others stared abashedly, but a sharp intake of breath could be heard all around. For indeed, the Mir Khanzada's face had patches of scales marring the skin, his eyes were bloodshot red, and his prominent nose and jaw jutted out forming what appeared to be the makings of a beak, or lizard-like snout. Only the broad neck, brow and chunky black hair were still reminiscent of a human being once the hood had been removed. Khagan stood calmly as some of the Red Raptors forced the Ministry Officials and Death Eaters alike into a line. As the room quieted down, fighting could still be heard echoing down the halls, but another Red Raptor entered from the main hall way and approached Khagan's side. He gave a curt bow, and took his position at the man's right side.

"My Khan, the building is secure," he reported although he was slightly out of breath. Khagan tilted his chin up just a bit and he seemed to sniff the air as another scream pierced the building; after that, much of the commotion stopped. He looked at the floor for a moment then took another step towards the line, moving his gaze to the faces of the officials.

"You killed Minister Oblansk," he stated bluntly, as he took a step down the line. "A good man. And now you try to get other ministries to do the same to their ministers, if they do not agree; is this true?" Khagan asked in an oddly monotone voice. None of the wizards lined up in front of the intimidating Khan answered.

"Hm, no? I am mistaken?" Khagan asked and his resonating, barking voice bounded off the walls like a ricocheting spell. His white teeth flashed as he spoke, irregularly pointed. His bloodshot eyes surveyed the line as he neared the end, and a small bead of sweat trickled down his forehead of human skin, and onto the shimmering red scales around his left eye and down the scales on the side of his chin and thick neck. He shook his relatively short mane of black human hair, before whipping around to renew his walk along the line. "I think not!" he bellowed and all of those in the room instinctively flinched, some even going so far as to duck and cover their heads. "DON'T!" he shouted again, bringing up his wand menacingly, and all wizards in the room froze, "move," he added in a voice barely above a whisper. He hurried to the center of the line so he was toe-to-toe with a rather unspectacular man in the robes of a Death Eater, although he seemed to have misplaced his mask somewhere along the line.

"You are secretary Dimitrof; I recognize your 'noble brow,'" the Khan observed with a frightening smirk full of pointed teeth, and a gesture to his own forehead. The Death Eater blinked and Khagan noticed one of the secretary's eyes was a bit off-kilter, as if he were constantly looking over the Khan's shoulder.

"I am afraid I can't say the same for you, Mir Khanzada. It seems your… heritage has caught up with you," the Death Eater, Dimitrof, said with an incredible amount of calm considering the circumstances, as he looked Khagan's overly large and half-scale covered figure up and down. "I can't say it's done much for you," the secretary added and the Khan's right hand shot up., sparks flying from the crooked tip. But the Khan slowly brought back his hand with a grimace masquerading as a smile.

"What's done… is done," Khagan said quietly through his clenched teeth. The Khan froze however, and tilted his frightening head as he seemed to contemplate the man's words. He took a menacing step forwards in order to tower over the surprised secretary. "Do you recognize me?" Khagan whispered and Dimitrof's eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into his hairline.

"Your appearance has changed, your voice has changed, but you still fly the same, Viktor Krum," Secretary Dimitrof droned with a tone of utmost satisfaction. "If you had planned on maintaining your secrecy, perhaps walking would have been a more appropriate form of transportation. Oh, wait, you can't even do that without being recognized, can you? Your trademark shuffle only reinforced my suspicions the moment you got off your broom," the Death Eater added with a rebellious smirk and tip of his head. The descendent of the Dragon Khan took a step back, shaking his head, and with his barrel-like chest heaving with sparse laughter.

"You really think I'm Krum? A Quidditch player?" Khagan asked in between laughs. The half-scaled face turned towards the wizard at his right. "Bring in Peregrine, will you?" he asked, and the wizard robed in red at his side bowed, and left the room at a brisk pace. Khagan returned his bloodshot gaze to the line of Death Eaters and officials in front of him and clicked his tongue in his grotesque, somewhat beaked snout, before lapsing into a strained silence. A few moments later an explosion above their heads sent everyone but Khagan sprawling and glass rained down from a window that had just shattered. One of the red robed wizards that had bolted out of the forest at the Khan's signal darted in. In one fluid motion the wizard circled the crouching captives and pulled up beside Khagan, dismounting in one fluid motion and kicking his broom up to rest on his slender, rounded shoulders.

"Peregrine, this man thinks I'm you," Khagan stated in what seemed to be an amused voice as he tilted his head back, indicating Dimitrof. Krum, or Peregrine as Khagan called him, stared momentarily at the secretary before shaking his head and shifting on his duck-footed feet. "I suppose I should be flattered," Khagan added with the ghost of a laugh. The other wizard that the Khan had used to fetch Krum earlier scurried back in and Khagan took a step back to meet him.

"Vulchanov, take these men outside and send them on their way. Not-" Khagan instructs, holding up a finger as the Red Raptor begins shepherding the line out, "you," he finishes, pointing to Dimitrof. The other Red Raptor, Vulchanov by name, bowed to the dragon descendent and ushered the rest of the line out grimly, with Krum on his heels. The Mir Khanzada glowered at the single remaining Death Eater from underneath his heavy black brows until the main chamber was empty.

"And now, Secretary Dimitrof, you and your kind pay for what you have done," Khagan stated in a deathly rasp as he stashed his irregular wand in his pocked and flexed the fingers of his other hand, the knuckles cracking as nails steadily and eerily grew from ordinary, short fingernails into talon-like claws. Great flashes of green and violet light pierced the darkness and filtered through the high windows in the room, along with horrible screams to accompany the multicolor lights. Dimitrof's own scream died in his throat as the dragon descendent reached for the Death Eater's throat with one hand and his face with the other.

Less than an hour later, Vulchanov, still dressed in his crimson red robes, stood outside the Bulgarian ministry building. He stared straight ahead, and the rest of the Red Raptors wondered about him, what he was thinking. At the entrance to the ministry stood thirteen spikes, upon twelve of which, twitching, trembling bodies were skewered. The sound of heavy boots coming into contact with the marble floors of the open hallway behind him and a steady dragging reached his ears. He finally turned around when both the footsteps and the dragging stopped simultaneously. The Khan stood in the doorway, his red hood once again drawn up over his head, and the almost unrecognizable body of Secretary Dimitrof clenched in his hand beside him.

"Put him up," came the quiet command from the Khan in red, as he dropped the corpse to the floor and made his way out of the ministry and over to Vulchanov's side. After a moment of silence, the Khan sighed. "He said nothing," Khagan stated as he and Vulchanov gazed out over the countryside. "He maintained that no one has informed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named of our existence – that we were _too insignificant to mention._"

"Then how do we explain the increase in resistance? We clear out one stronghold only to hear of two more!" Vulchanov nearly shouted and Khagan patted down the air in an attempt at a calming motion.

"Dimitrof said our brutality inspired many waverers to join the Death Eaters." Khagan barely paused, but did long enough to notice Vulchanov's stricken expression. The scaled man shook his head vigorously and didn't allow the Red Raptor to speak. "Don't believe a word of that crap, Antonin," spoke the Khan sharply from underneath his cowl. "We aren't meeting any _more _outposts," Khagan observed. "There have always been more Death Eaters than us; nothing's changed," he growled and crossed his thickly muscled arms across his chest. Vulchanov did not seem to share the Khan's ease.

"But that's just it, isn't it? Nothing's changed! They just keep coming; there's always another stronghold to burn and we just keep dieing!" Vulchanov roared, causing the other Red Raptors, busy levitating Dimitrof's body onto the remaining pike, to stare. "We lost six today! It should have been none," Vulchanov ranted and Khagan shook his head.

"Stop it; you're making the others nervous," Khagan whispered in French to the Red Raptor raving at his side. Indeed, the other wizards had slowed now, some were milling about aimlessly, attempting to look busy, searching the building and the area.

"Er, they need to be!" Vulchanov stammered, struggling with the language transition.

"This is a war, we are to expect losses," Khagan responded with less than normal vigor.

"But we cannot… cannot…" Vulchanov stammered, in his faltering French. He finally punched the air and continued in Bulgarian. "We can't afford this!" he finished and tilted a bit ahead to glance underneath the Khan's hood. Khagan's second in command looked visibly relieved and his shoulder released as he leaned back. For the face hidden by the cowl of the bright red cloak seemed one hundred percent human. Expressive black eyebrows furrowed over two dark mahogany eyes; Khagan crossed his arms over his chest, revealing his brown, knee-length coat.

"Maybe I should just do it all myself then," Khagan muttered but he moved on before Vulchanov could respond to that. "Did you send the reply?" Khagan asked directing the gap in his hood where his shadowed face was towards Vulchanov

"Uh, yes, I sent your enver and added my own, filling them in just a bit more," Vulchanov reported after hesitating for a second after the Khan's unusual remark. Khagan glanced at Vulchanov quizzically but said nothing. "I can't believe the Order sent that letter to the Death Eaters. I thought you said Dumbledore was all-seeing," Vulchanov grumbled, while shaking his head. He looked right back at Khagan still shaking his head. "How could he have been so stupid as to not realize Oblansk is dead?" Vulchanov asked out of the thin air, more rhetorically than to the descendent of the Dragon Khan right next to him.

"He disappointed me, I admit," Khagan spoke in almost a whisper, as he gazed out at the mountainscape in front of him. "But it just means that he doesn't realize how bad it is over here. He has other things on his mind, I am sure. I have heard their ministry is finally listening to the Order," Khagan breathed as an explanation. Turning back towards the now occupied ministry, Khagan walked back through the wide wooden doors.

Red robed wizards scurried about the building, the foot soldiers wearing brown belted tunics and slacks, overshadowed by their almost oversized crimson cloaks and glinting black boots, and the others, the ones from the Air Squadron, wearing bright red Quidditch wind breakers, matching jodhpurs and all weather cloaks, and similarly shining black boots with thickened shin guards. However, all of the wizards had the same lacquered black, beaked mask hiding their faces.

Standing in the corner next to the locking mechanism of the door was the lanky Viktor Krum, looking out from behind his own beaked mask at the other wizards busying themselves. His own custom made mahogany racing broom leaned against the wall next to him, distinguishing him from the other flyers, as he stood ill at ease amongst the commotion. Khagan approached the former Quidditch player, who straightened as much as his hunched figure would allow him when he saw his leader approaching.

"Don't worry about it," Khagan said quietly once he was near, and Krum visibly relaxed, moving to lean on the stone walls again.

"You really needed me in there?" Peregrine asked in a voice barely above a whisper. No one else was looking anyway.

"He implicated the Krums were the dragon descendents. I had to convince him otherwise," Khagan justified, but the chocolate brown eyes peering from behind the mask were skeptical.

"Even though you were just going to kill him too? You didn't even have to worry about the others thinking the Krums were descendents because you had them killed too," Peregrine argued, raising his voice to just above a whisper. Khagan shook his head in frustration.

"Listen, we're just the hand! The hand! My family has been torn between honor and self-respect, for hundreds of years – doing things we don't want to because every man in the family is bound by our forefather's oath to serve and protect all people in our country from harm. We've served in silence, in hiding for years, suffering the curse of our blood so others could live happily, in bliss. Our sins here are justified!" Khagan countered in an uncharacteristic outburst. Peregrine leaned back into the corner, recoiling as if hit, as the Khan raised his voice. As the human side of the Khan took a few deep breaths of the cool air, he didn't fail to notice the rapt attention that the other Red Raptors were giving him now, attracted by his own voice. He ignored them and spoke to Krum once again in a hushed voice. "It doesn't matter now, they're dead, but they aren't the last ones. There are others who still threaten our country.

"I'll see you back at the castle, Peregrine. Go get some rest. You've been flying for days straight here," Khagan ordered in his normal deep voice. Krum still glared from behind his mask, but he bowed stiffly over his splayed feet, took his broom and swept out the door, mounting and zooming off into the distance. Khagan stared after the young man for a few moments before positioning himself in the center of the hallway once again and turning around to face the inside of the ministry.

The Khan took out his wand and repositioned it in his hand so he formed a fist a first around the middle, with the tip of the wand pointing towards the ceiling. Without a sound, the tip of the curved wand extended, along with an extension of similar thickness wood coming from the end of the handle until it met the floor. With his newly formed staff, Khagan pounded on the hard floor, and the heads of all the wizards turned as they paused and stared.

"Sweep the premises, search for stragglers, hidden passageways, and secret chambers. I know there are at least two passageways out of here with hideouts along the way. If you run into any stragglers, _send them on their way_. Return to the castle when everything is cleared. Leave a squad of soldiers, and two flyers. Keep an eye out for envers, and any other form of communication they might be using. I expect a report when you're done," the Khan's deep voice rang out through the halls without the need of a sonorous charm, now without the reptilian edge to the sound. He reached up underneath his hood, as if to pat his hair, but instead pulled his hand down over his face, and a great black, beaked mask was drawn upon his face. Shining black lacquer made the wood of the mask shine like obsidian, and the lower jaw of the mask was one like a human's except with long razor sharp teeth, resembling those of a great cat. The jaw moved as he spoke again, and his dark eyes glinted from behind the holes in the mask.

"Be wary, and be quick," he said quietly, and clicked his heels together, coming to attention, and giving a curt bow to the other wizards, before turning on his heel and stalking out with his red robes billowing behind him.

**Author's Note: **

Second chapter, yay! And it's much longer. I guess that's what I get for only working on one chapter for two weeks. :D

This is a rather different tone than the first chapter; I hope you liked it.

And I also just want to say that it probably shouldn't be that cold in Bulgaria in the summer, but I'm saying it is cold there

a.) because they're on a mountain

b.) because the area around the ministry is enchanted to be uncomfortable to keep intruders away, and

c.) because I'm the author.

Don't hate me…

Please: reviews make me write more. Inspire me! As you might've noticed, Gabbers almost directly addressed some of the subject matter in this chapter. Tehe. Actually, that was just coincidence. I couldn't go past the second chapter without introducing Viktor, could I?

On a side note: while this is not a song fic, there are a lot of songs that I listen to when writing this. There is a song that really fits this chapter, and just this story.

It's called "Hand of Sorrow" by Within Temptation (you'll notice that the title of this chapter is also the title of the song). It's a really beautiful song; I suggest you go a look it up. It is kind of metal-ish though. Pretty metal though. :D

Corrected a few mistakes – silly typos and odd wording and such. (11/13/07)


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